I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. <br />What hours, O what black hours we have spent <br />This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went! <br />And more must, in yet longer light's delay. <br /> <br />With witness I speak this. But where I say <br />Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament <br />Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent <br />To dearest him that lives alas! away. <br /> <br />I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decrees <br />Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me; <br />Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse. <br /> <br />Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see <br />The lost are like this, and their scourge to be <br />As I am mine, their sweating selves, but worse.<br /><br />Gerard Manley Hopkins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-wake-and-feel-the-fell-of-dark-not-day/
